


Everybodty Talks

by chromochaotic



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Finger Sucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Wet & Messy, bottom marco, well maybe a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2018670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromochaotic/pseuds/chromochaotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People have been saying some awfully unkind things about Jean and his Little Jean, if you know what I mean...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybodty Talks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shingekinoboyfriends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shingekinoboyfriends/gifts).



> This was done 1) in response to a certain kinkmeme prompt that I'll link to when I think this work has met every single point within it, and 2) out of my and others' apparently desperate thirst for more Marco Bott(om).
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: I imagine this in the canon-verse, except trainees graduate when they're 18-19. So with this difference, for one reason or another, Marco lives and things go from there. But this starts when they're all 17/18 and still in the 104th.

It all started pretty innocuously, Marco remembered. Just some pleased trainees talking after a good lunch:

“Shiiiiiit, that soup was awesome!” Reiner practically bellowed across the mess hall.

Sitting beside him, Ymir puffed her chest out proudly. “That’s my Christa for you, cooking like a goddess.”

“Seriously?!” Reiner turned to the petite blonde as his hands tugged dramatically down his face. “Christa, is there anything you’re not good at?”

Christa laughed. “Oh, there’s plenty. I’ll have to list them for you some time.”

At that point, Sasha joined in the conversation. “Well I wouldn’t believe it. You make good soup, you’re always ready to take care of us, you’re one of the best at training…” She shot a very serious, very determined look down the table. “Christa, will you marry me?”

“Heyheyhey hold on now,” Ymir growled, territorial and displeased. “You’re gonna have to get in line behind me.”

Sasha’s whine was immediate. “Ymir, come on, you don’t even want her for her cooking!”

“And if you  _want_  her for anything other than cooking you can talk to fucking Kirschtein for all I care.”

Marco’s attention perked at this. Jean wasn’t at this meal to listen in, for better or for worse, instead sentenced to clean the classroom. (At this point Marco almost found it funny how Jean and Eren had lost enmity but gained physical strength, enough so that when they did fight, Jean managed to  _break a window_.) But right, friends were talking about friends wanting friends. And now Jean. Why.

“ _Wow_ , you’re cold!” Suddenly, Connie jumped in on Sasha’s behalf. Leaning away from the table and rubbing his arms as if chilly, Connie accused, “You’d really bump her down from Christa to  _Jean_?”

And, to Marco’s surprise (but apparently no one else’s), Ymir looked down, abashed. Ymir, the Shameless, seemed to consider the harshness of her own words and how it might affect someone else’s feelings. “Sasha,” she said at length, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone there.”

Sasha bowed her head. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Um,” Marco finally ventured, “was that really such a bad thing to say?”

“Well… yeah,” Connie replied.

“Kirschtein, he…” Ymir blew out a breath while her eyes tipped up, searching for words. “Lemme put it like this. Calling him ‘Horseface’ is the closest to ‘stallion’ that boy’ll ever be.”

“On a scale of Commander Erwin to Hanji Zoe of ‘People I Want Near My Dick,’” Reiner elaborated, “Jean… Jean is a negative fifty.”

Marco let out a strained laugh, affronted. Although he wasn’t sure if it was for his own taste in men or his best friend’s dignity. “Come on, he probably wouldn’t be that bad.” Marco knew he was talking to a tough crowd, though, and turned to Christa as his best hope. “Does everyone really think that about him…?”

The petite blonde averted her eyes.

“Marco, seriously,” Ymir went back on attack. “Look at him. Would he  _really_ give anyone a nice, good fuck?”

Sasha nodded, and Marco didn’t know when exactly all his friends had gotten so opinionated on this topic. “I mean, just,  _size_ , right? Jean’s kinda shrimpy. You know.”

“Face like a horse, hung like a pony, maybe,” Ymir muttered seemingly to herself, yet it was loud enough for the whole of their table to hear.

“A- _and_ ,” Connie sputtered, blushing, “no matter the size, would he even know what to do with it?”

Marco’s whole table nodded sagely, and he was left to wonder.

–-

A year passed: Jean and Marco graduated together, joined the MP together, got together. And Marco got his answer.

–-

Marco liked his and Jean’s bedroom. Mostly because it was  _just_ his and Jean’s, which meant plenty of privacy for them to be close. And kiss. Okay, to be specific, it gave them a space where they could sit too close together, then start tumbling all over each other, then start kissing. And then kiss a lot. After a few weeks of being  _very_  into kissing, they took further advantage of that privacy.

Marco swallowed, flicked his tongue over his swollen lips, and finished tugging down his own pants. “So you said, you’ve done this before?”

Jean paused in pulling his shirt fully off his shoulders. “Yeah. None of them meant anything, but. Yeah.”

That was still a little bitter going down, but Marco turned aside and tried to take it calmly. He knew what Jean was like; he’d take instant gratification, especially if it would fulfill his impulses. Heck, Marco even remembered a few off-training days when Jean conspicuously went into town and went straight to the showers once he was back.

“And you’ve really never had sex?” Jean asked in return, a bit incredulous.

Marco jumped when he felt Jean’s hand move lightly over his ass. “Y-yeah.”

“Well, fuck if I’d have known. You kiss like an angel.” Jean seemed to rethink his words. “A really, really sexy angel. I mean. Like an angel I’d want to fuck.”

“I… I would hope so, Jean.” And then, stoic mask slipping, Marco laughed. “I’ve had some hookups, but not sex. I just—” He turned to say something more to Jean’s face. Marco ended up choking on his words.

“’Just’…?” Jean sat on the edge of his bed, already fully nude. And…  _and_ …

Marco didn’t ever think of himself as particularly valuing size. Size queen? No, he’d never had specific desires about wanting a certain length or width. But Jean, sitting casually before him with one hand depressing the mattress as he leaned on it, the other dragging slowly up and down his flushed erection…

Marco had never looked forward to sitting himself down on a nice, thick cock as much as he did in that moment.

Jean took Marco’s staring as nerves. “Hey, we can stop if you want,” he said as he sat a little straighter.

“No! Uh, no, it’s fine.” Marco took a deep breath, eyes still too locked on Jean’s dick to even move up to his face. His ears burned.

“Okay… Still, you’ll set the pace, alright?” Jean scooted back on the bed some. “Now c’mere, my sexy angel.”

“Please never call me that again,” Marco said with as flat a face he could manage. He moved to the bed and knelt on it in front of Jean.

“Sexy ang—“

Marco quieted him with a kiss.

Jean smiled into it, closing his eyes and bringing his arms to wrap around Marco’s back. He always seemed to like this part, when they got skin-on-skin; Marco melted a little as Jean’s fingers traced gently but firmly over his shoulders, down his spine, up the side of his neck and into his hair. Marco breathed hard through his nose, lips opening wide against Jean’s as his own hands crossed over Jean’s shifting back muscles.

His heart rate picked up at all the little sensations: Jean’s thumbnail brushed lightly against his ear, there was a tiny  _plop_  as their tongues slid together and created hollows in their mouths, and Marco actually gulped in anticipation when Jean shifted up onto his knees, cock bouncing and brushing against Marco’s abs.

“Hey, lie back, ‘kay?” Jean murmured against his lips.

Marco nodded as he swallowed once more. Slowly, he unfolded his body until he was settled atop the sheets, Jean moving to hang above him.

“Now, lemme get…” Jean gritted his teeth as he stretched up, past Marco, to reach over the simple headboard to his bedside table. “…this.” He held a little bottle triumphantly in his hand, already loosening the stopper.

Marco watched breathlessly, pupils probably blown, as a slick oil dripped from the bottle onto a few of Jean’s fingertips. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger before looking up toward Marco.

“Y’wanna taste it?” Jean asked, smiling a little crookedly. “It’s the same stuff you use in food.”

“Oh… kay…” Marco panted out especially hard as Jean set the bottle carefully aside, then lowered himself closer. The first touch of Jean’s fingers to Marco’s lips got the sensation across fast: the feel was velvety, and lasting, not relenting even when his tongue-tip brushed reflexively against the intrusion. “Hck…” Marco gagged a little, but soon enough adjusted for the smooth sink of Jean’s fingers into his mouth.

Jean’s chest rose and fell as he looked on. “Shit… Marco…” He pulled out, then pushed back in and outright moaned when Marco’s tongue pressed warm and flat along the digits. Gently, Jean bobbed his fingers out of Marco’s lips, completely absorbed in their give and pull, and the hot wet curl of Marco’s tongue. “God  _damn, a-_ ah-h, you look so fucking good…” He pumped back in. “Your mouth’s all red… The—” Jean gulped. “The oil’s running down your lips, and I—ngh, god, I wanna—”

Jean withdrew his fingers, instead pressing his lips thickly against Marco’s. It was too much, too hot; the oil just smeared between them and made already puffed mouths slip even more lushly against each other.

Marco whimpered through the kiss. “Jean, c-come on, or else I’m not gonna… I’m not…”

“Y-yeah, okay babe,” Jean agreed as he lifted away. “And you wanted me to prep you?”

“Mmhmm,” Marco nodded, gazing at Jean with just a hint of non-kissing-related blush.

Jean exhaled. “Okay. And we talked about this, alright?” Jean reminded as he poured more oil over his fingers. “It’s gonna feel weird, but I’ll go just how you tell me to, and tell me if you wanna stop.” With one last nod from Marco, Jean slowly moved between his legs. “Just… hold ‘em here, okay?” Jean asked as he carefully separated and spread Marco’s legs.

“Right,” Marco practically whispered, straining his thighs just a little more apart.

Jean leaned back down. “So, did it taste good?” he asked hoarsely.

“Hm… It wasn’t bad, I gue—a- _ah!_ ” Marco stuttered as Jean’s fingers started to circle his entrance. He quickly regrouped, saying, “It was a little… b-bitter, but mostly… jus-s—” Marco’s breathing sped up into panting; Jean was starting to press one finger inside. “Most,” pant, “M-mostly just, bla… ah… bland…”

Marco gave up on speaking for a bit as he adjusted to the feeling of Jean beginning to stretch him. He could only shiver, sweat beading on his skin.

“You still okay?”

“Mm.” Marco bit his lip, eyes now closed tightly, but still managed to nod “yes.”

“Okay.” Jean continued his movements, the base of his palm resting heavily against the sensitive skin below Marco’s dick. “Just… hold on a bit… relax as much as you can.”

When Jean slipped inside more fingers, Marco was reduced to letting out shivering gasps. He reached up and pulled Jean even closer to him until Jean’s forehead rested against his own. As he rode out the unpleasantness until it faded, Marco zeroed in on the heat of Jean’s panting against his cheeks, the little hitches in breath and the soft brush of Jean’s hair on his brow. He focused on all of this, even as Jean’s hand and wrist made telltale movements down against the skin of his inner thighs.

“B-Babe, I, I can’t wait to be inside you,” Jean finally rasped out. He breathed in shudders against Marco’s lips. “Can’t wait to push you open… Hear you moan…”

Jean’s words just reminded Marco of his own anticipation for the hot weight pressing against his stomach, and his eyes fluttered open to gaze wantonly at Jean. Jean looked back with a searing intensity, fingers now pumping in and out of Marco a little roughly, and very slickly.

“You ready? You want it?” Jean’s voice was molten in Marco’s ear.

“ _Pl—_ ” Marco stopped himself. He wouldn’t beg. “Yeah, l-let’s—I want.” Marco twitched as Jean gave one last, slow rub with his fingers. Once Jean had moved back, Marco took a moment to rest as the remaining oil was poured on Jean’s cock.

“Here, Marco. Let’s get like… this.” In a moment, Jean had completely repositioned them: back to sitting near the edge of the bed, Jean rested his legs on the floor and sat Marco with his thighs spanning Jean’s lap.

Jean guided Marco into rising up on his knees, then steadied Marco’s hips as the shaky man looked questioningly down. “I told you I’d let you set the pace, right?” Jean explained. “So… when you’re ready.” With that, Jean relaxed the grip of his hands. Marco knew he’d wait patiently even as he felt the tip of Jean’s cock bob against his ass.

With one long, wavering exhale, Marco sank down. He could  _feel_  the head push in past the ring of muscle, stretching him wide, wider than he’d ever been before.

Jean’s fingers dug into his hips. “Ah,  _ye-e-es_ ,” Jean sighed, head tilted back with a smile. “ _Marco_ …” he groaned.

Marco had his lips pressed tight while he eased himself down as gradually as possible. By the time he almost had all of Jean in, his thighs were quaking. The only thing he could think was that this felt  _insane_. Marco actually stopped a breath above Jean’s lap, unable to take any more of that stretching, pulsing stimulation without collapsing into a flushing mess.

Jean cracked one eye open. “Nnn… Marco, you alright?” he asked, thumbs brushing over the crest of Marco’s hips.

“Yeah, but… I might need to go a little slow.” Marco chuckled weakly.

“Sure, sure,” Jean said, almost comically agreeably. “Whatever you need.” He let his hands drift down from Marco’s hips to cup the curve of his ass. The movement felt more romantic, at least, when Jean tilted his head forward, resting his ear above Marco’s heart.

Bracing himself, Marco started to move shallowly on Jean’s cock. He was of course grateful for slick glide of the oil… but he could also feel it running like a silky mess down his thighs. “Jean, I think you used too much,” he panted.

“Hm?”

“The oil,” Marco gritted out between breaths. Lowering himself again, he felt another dribble of liquid slip down his leg.

Jean swallowed as if his mouth had gone dry. Then, he smoothed his hands even lower along Marco’s body, until his fingers could pass through the excess oil. “Ohhh, fuck no, I used just enough.” That said, Jean rubbed his hands in one long, firm stroke up Marco’s sides.

Marco’s breath stuttered. Jean began to caress and knead everything from his ass to his chest, starting by spreading a slick of oil across Marco's lower back. Gradually, he massaged his way back toward Marco's stomach, stroking lovingly up and down over the quivering muscles. Finally, he swirled his fingers in little half-moon arcs up, over Marco's ribcage, to press his thumbs into Marco's nipples.

"H-hey!" Marco yelped. At first lulled by Jean's movements, that last trick caused a buzz of pleasure so sudden that he involuntarily dropped farther than he’d meant onto Jean. “A- _ah!_ ”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jean gasped into Marco’s skin. His hips jerked reflexively, impaling Marco that much deeper with his length. Jean pressed a shower of appreciative kisses across Marco’s collar bones. “Holy shit, you’ve gotta do that again.” As if to coax his lover, Jean gave a slippery flick to now-perky nipples.

Marco whimpered, but did his best to lift himself away—the entire time, feeling his body fight the pull of Jean’s thick cock leaving him—before sinking back down into the almost punishingly perfect ecstasy of being filled, hot and hard. Jean felt so good, sliding home inside him. When Marco finally gave in and sat himself heavily in Jean’s lap, he almost screamed from the sudden rush of pleasure. He needed that again; desperately, Marco started to ride Jean in earnest, the head of Jean’s cock pressing in burst after burst of electrifying bliss.

“Jean,  _Jean_ ,” Marco moaned. He could feel his boyfriend mouthing filthily at his jawline, sucking marks down his neck, squeezing and pinching at his most sensitive spots. “I’m—I, I think I’m close—”

“Yeah?” Jean breathed, before continuing to trail sloppily wet kisses up Marco’s neck.

“Y-yeah.”

And then, Jean did one of the single most evil things possible, barring misleading a hungry person in their search for food and stealing someone else’s punchline: with an iron grip, he latched onto Marco’s hips and held him firmly in place… completely fucked on Jean’s cock.

“…Jean?” Marco uttered, hoarse. “J-Jean, let me…” And Marco struggled to lift himself, needing just a  _little_  more, another  _tiny_  push to get over the edge. But Jean’s hold was strong, and suddenly Marco’s legs were turned to absolute jelly against that force. “Jean, I…”

“Yes, Marco?” he purred up into his lover’s ear. Smug  _bastard_. 

“Jean, p- _please_.” Marco’s voice was a near sob as he clawed at Jean’s back. At that point, Jean had confirmed the surrender of Marco's muscles, and, smirking, skimmed his fingers teasingly back up Marco's body. Still, he seemed ready to strengthen his hold at any moment.

Marco could feel the oddly soft wetness of the oil on his chest, on the sensitive nubs of his nipples where Jean still idly circled his thumbs; he felt it cooling on his stomach and ass, and sliding unbearably wet between his and Jean's thighs; and, worst of all, he felt Jean's cock _throbbing,_ hot at his core. “For the love of god,  _please_  let me move!”

Jean’s breathing had turned harsh as he listened to that titillating keen, but he somehow persisted in staying still a few moments more. “I don’t know, Marco. Not sure you really want it so much.” Then, he set his hands on Marco's ass and sank his fingers almost sinfully slow and deep into the flesh there. “Just what is it that you want from me right now?”

Marco moaned. “ _I want you to fuck me!_ ” he gasped into Jean’s hair, tears threatening to spill down his flaming cheeks. “ _Please!_ ”

Jean almost choked on his next exhale. Holding Marco as securely as he could without bruising, he lifted his lover up, nearly off his straining, leaking cock—and then  _slammed_  him back down.

Marco screamed, coming in wave after wave of white-hot aftershocks. His come spilled down his cock and added to the mess already leaking down his thighs.

That sight and feeling got Jean, too. “Hng— _Marco_ ,” he wheezed, curling into his boyfriend’s chest and arms and holding tight. “ _Marco...!_ ” 

...Marco was the first, eventually, to come back to himself. He stared down at Jean's blissed-out face, and in a dreamlike state recalled a conversation he'd had over a year ago.  _If only they knew_ , he thought.  _It's really not his face that's like a horse..._ _  
_

Soon enough, Jean smiled weakly up at Marco. “What did I tell you?” he asked, looking particularly spent.

Gently, he tilted Marco until they were both laying on their sides, and then pulled out with a mutual shiver. Jean drawled, “Definitely the sexiest angel I’ve ever fucked.”

“Oh my  _god_ ,” Marco groaned, even as he curled closer to Jean’s embrace.

“Yes?” Jean replied. "What about me?"

Marco’s eyes went wide. “Shut  _up!_ ”


End file.
